A Muggle and a Monster
by Silent Knight I
Summary: A summer in the lives of the Weasley twins. Fred has a fling with a Muggle girl, and George acts up. Is it something more sinister than just simple jealousy? NOT slash, FWxOC but the romance isn't the focus.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ I claim no ownership to the _Harry Potter_ universe. This story was written for fun, not money.

This is a one-shot short story starring two of my favourite HP characters, the irrepressible Weasley twins!

It's set in about Half-Blood Prince times, though I haven't been careful to make every detail perfectly canon. There's a bit of creative licence.

Please have a read and enjoy!

*

George Weasley needed sleep like the shop's ledger needed balancing – desperately. He kept trying to focus on the ledger, squinting and unsquinting his eyes, blinking madly; but the words and numbers blurred meaninglessly. With a loud, angry sigh, he slammed it shut, giving it up as a lost cause.

Once again, he thought bitterly that he wouldn't need to be here, struggling through an all-nighter _again_, if Fred would just pull his weight once in a while. Running a business, and especially one as successful as Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, took more elbow grease than one person alone could provide. But Fred was useless these days. George figured he might as well have a muppet for a brother.

As he thought these things, a great weight seemed to settle on his shoulders, and he slumped forward, nose nearly touching the leathery cover of the shop's ledger. He wasn't sure he could make it up the stairs to bed ... perhaps the ledger would make a comfortable enough pillow. Even just for ten minutes...

His eyes sagged closed. Fatigue pushed him downwards, his mind fogged, the feel of the leather on his cheek wasn't so bad. Just a little sleep. He needed to recharge just enough to power his legs up the stairs, then he could go to bed properly. Then he remembered, with an uncomfortable jolt, that it was only Thursday – the shop needed to be opened up at half six, and that was probably only a few hours away. He would hardly get any sleep at all. Again.

This was all Fred's fault, of course. It wasn't just annoying anymore, it was cruel. Anger bubbled somewhere deep inside George, and he opened his eyes to find himself looking at the shelf of Nosebleed Nougats. Fred had packaged them by hand a few days ago, and they were, in fact, the only items in the shop of which that could be said. Everything else, every last item, every last display, was George's handiwork.

Yet, the shelf of Nosebleed Nougats stood proudly right by the counter, garishly presented in shades of bright purple and red, outshining every other display to tempt naïve customers into an impulse buy. George stared at it for several long minutes. It was arrogant of Fred ... arrogant and insulting, to create a display like that and put it right by the counter, then traipse off without doing any of the boring work, like adding them to the inventory or setting the prices...

George sat up suddenly, teeth gritted, taut with rage, tiredness forgotten. His fingers closed around his wand. He'd show Fred exactly what he thought of his stupid display shelf.

'_Reducto!'_

It was an unnecessarily powerful spell for the job at hand. Not only did the burst of power from George's wand obliterate the shelf of Nosebleed Nougats, it bowled over the stands on either side and singed a wall hanging. George sat for a moment, gazing at what he'd done, then dropped his wand with a clatter and folded his arms round his head. It was just another thing to clean up! What had he been thinking?

As he sank forward onto the desk, face buried firmly in his arms, something in the air just behind him shimmered gently. Ignorant of anything but his own exhaustion, George let sleep come, not caring if he was in bed or not. Although there was no draught, the tips of his hair shifted strangely on their own, as if brushed by an invisible hand.

George stirred just a little at the movement. The shimmering hovered over him, a faint murmuring disrupting the silence, like a voice whispering something soothing. Unbidden, a strange image flared in George's mind, a vivid imagining of how satisfying it would be to have directed that _Reducto_ spell straight at Fred instead of at the innocent nougats. He could picture the blood spattering the walls. It was disconcerting and something about it felt wrong, yet he held the image in his mind as sleep claimed him.

***

_One month earlier..._

***

It was a Sunday afternoon when Claudia came into their lives. True to the day's name, the sun was brilliant in a rich blue sky, and the air was sweet.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes closed up at noon as it normally did on a Sunday, and the afternoon found proprietors Fred and George Weasley wandering the streets of Ottery St Catchpole with their friends, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Ottery St Catchpole was the Muggle village nearest to the Weasley family home, and though Muggle villages could be dull at times, they could also be quite peaceful and lazy. Lazy seemed to go hand-in-hand with the atmosphere that day.

The five young people ambled down the main street, in no hurry, talking in easy drawls and stopping often to marvel at the Muggle shops. The girls, who were friends of the Weasleys from way back as they had all used to play on their school Quidditch team together, seemed constantly interested in the numerous clothes shops. Window after window was decked out with colourful dresses, and the girls stopped frequently to point and debate the finer points of couture. All five of them were in Muggle clothes today, which was always a bit of fun.

The blokes, meanwhile, strolled up the street in fits and bursts, often stopping when one or other of them became distracted by something novel. Lee, a tall and dark young man with dreadlocks to his chin, insisted on pawing through a display of children's books outside a bookshop, as Muggles were always publishing the most ridiculous and funny things to read to their kids ('_Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs!_ Why d'you reckon they all look like gnomes?'). Fred darted off suddenly at one point, returning moments later with five heaped ice-cream cones ('Transfigured some Sickles into Muggle money, I reckon I even got the exchange rate right, now eat fast cause Muggles have no idea about making ice-cream that doesn't melt.'). George fell behind the group considerably for some time, as he got caught playing a 'fortune telling machine' that was, upon closer inspection and several wasted Muggle coins later, just a plastic toy that generated random false prophecies. Angelina went back to fetch him.

'Beware the colour red,' George read from the slip of paper the machine had given him, as they jogged to catch up with the others. 'Your lucky day is Friday. Tonight you will get something you've always wished for.'

'These poor Muggles,' mused Angelina with a grin. 'What a terrible excuse for divination!'

'I don't suppose the poor things know any better,' George snickered, pocketing the paper to show Fred later. An instant fortune-telling gimmick wasn't such a bad idea, if one designed it properly. They'd have to discuss it.

Fred and George were always on the lookout for new products for their joke shop. Even if the product wasn't a joke – even if it was just something cool – it qualified to go on their shelves. In fact, more than half of the items they stocked weren't jokes at all. The anti-Dark Arts products sold well, as one might expect, and so did the Love Potions.

George and Angelina rounded a corner and finally spotted the others just up ahead, walking along slowly. Fred, who was ahead of the others, turned so that he was walking backwards and sent the stragglers a broad grin.

'Oy! All right there? Not up to any shenanigans, I hope?'

'Shut your mouth!' Angelina called good-naturedly, as George laughed. But his expression changed suddenly.

'Fred, watch it!'

Somebody had just emerged from one of the shops, backing out with a large load in her arms. She didn't see him any more than he saw her, as he was still walking backwards. They collided rather spectacularly, Fred's legs flying up in the air and the girl giving a little 'Oh!' of surprise, the box in her hands falling to the ground with a clatter.

George and Angelina couldn't help laughing at the sight, as they closed the gap between them at a jog. Lee hauled Fred back to his feet, while Alicia offered a hand to the newcomer.

When everyone was the right way up and the embarrassed sniggering had subsided, they got a look at the unfortunate girl Fred had knocked down. She looked to be only a little younger than they were, and was pleasant-faced, with dark brown hair pushed back by a white headband. George thought she was quite pretty. Fred, evidently, thought the same thing, because he ducked down and picked up the box the girl had dropped, which George thought was suspiciously chivalrous.

'Sorry, sorry,' he said, giving her a charming smile and offering the box. It was full of coloured binders.

'No problem, I should have been looking,' she returned cheerfully, and she set the box down on a trestle table that stood on the footpath. The shop was a stationer's, and judging by the neatly ironed, collared red shirt the girl was wearing, this was her workplace.

'Awful day to be working,' Lee said conversationally, as the girl began arranging the binders on the table. She laughed graciously, but returned her focus back to her work.

Angelina and Alicia continued walking, thinking the moment had passed, but Fred had other ideas. He noticed the girl's shiny name badge, sent George a conspiratorial wink, and said kindly, 'When do you knock off, Claudia? Perhaps I can repay you for sweeping you off your feet.'

Angelina rolled her eyes and kept walking up the footpath, followed by Alicia, who was smothering a laugh in her hand. Lee smirked, shaking his head, and George had to look away or risk cracking up at Fred's pick-up line. Claudia, however, flushed a little and said coyly, 'I'm sorry?'

'When do you finish?' Fred repeated with a disarming grin. 'I don't mean to sound forward –' (George actually did snort back a laugh this time) '– but it's too nice a day to be on your lonesome, isn't it?' He saved her the embarrassment of replying by saying gaily, 'Our lot'll be down the park later on, be good to see you.'

And, with a final flash of his teeth, Fred turned and strode off after the girls, Lee and George trailing along trying to quell the tears springing into their eyes. Claudia looked rather gobsmacked. She'd stopped putting binders out, and stood instead holding a bright pink one, a similar pinkness creeping over her cheeks.

'That was cruel,' Alicia admonished Fred once he'd caught up to them.

'How so?' shrugged Fred. 'There's no pressure, and I wasn't lying. Be good to see her.' He stretched his hands high over his head, letting the sun warm his face. 'What's a Sunday afternoon without a few lovely ladies to keep me company?'

Alicia punched him lightly in the side.

***

Everyone, possibly including Fred, was surprised when Claudia actually did find them at the park. They had already been there for an hour, lolling about on a sunny stretch of grass and making a game out of transfiguring dandelions into little flowery portraits of people they knew. When they heard footsteps and saw Claudia approaching, looking a bit timid, they hurried to stuff their wands away, as this girl was no doubt a clueless Muggle. Lee rolled over and crushed Dandy-Snape and Dandy-McGonagall just in time.

'Hi,' she said uncertainly. 'Uh –'

'Pleased to meet you!' Fred chirped, hopping up, as did the others. He shook her hand, and she seemed to relax.

'Oh,' she said, 'I wasn't sure if you were serious before! I just figured, if you're new in town...'

'Oh, we live out of town a bit, not here much, you know,' Fred explained hastily.

'We're just visiting,' Angelina added, indicating herself, Alicia and Lee. 'I'm Angelina.'

'Claudia Mady,' the Muggle said with a friendly smile, and the others introduced themselves quickly. They made a colourful group. Lee and Angelina were both as dark as Alicia was blonde, and Fred and George stood out a mile with their fire-red hair. It was only then that Claudia noticed that Fred and George were twins, as they stood side-by-side with matching smiles of welcome. She personally found them to be quite handsome, with long spiked hair hanging to their collars and identical sprinkles of freckles across their noses. It was not everyday that new young people came to sleepy Ottery St Catchpole, let alone such lovely folk as these.

'Fred and George Weasley,' the twins said together, as George shook Claudia's hand. They didn't bother to tell her which was which, out of force of habit rather than any desire to be cheeky. They introduced themselves to everybody in that manner and only their mother ever complained about it.

'So,' said Claudia finally, 'would you like to head over to the pub? I have a mate who works there, we can get half-price pints.'

Lee, who up to this point had been looking a bit awkward, warmed up immediately. He and Fred went on ahead on either side of Claudia, the others flocking along behind. As they walked, they traded a little information on each other. Claudia had lived in the village for six months, she said. Her mother had transferred there for work. It was dreadfully dull, and once she finished school she was hoping to get a scholarship to a university in London, at which point she would take off. She was keen on electrical engineering, and asked the others what they were studying or working in.

Fred fielded the question before anyone else could, explaining that they had all just concluded their final year at a boarding school in the country. This was true, it just wasn't the entire truth. Claudia seemed happy with it, and she was very interested when Fred explained that he and George were entrepreneurs, in the process of establishing their own shop.

'Wow!' she trilled, as the six of them found a booth inside the musty local pub. 'What kind of shop?'

'Eh, novelty items,' said Fred delicately, sneaking a sidelong glance at George. 'Toys, tricks, things like that. There's a surprisingly good market for it.'

Claudia seemed impressed, and things only got better from there for Fred. For a Muggle, he found Claudia very easy to talk to, and he had little difficulty concealing the magical nature of anything he did. She, in turn, seemed interested in Fred's chatty small talk and laughed a lot, even if what was said wasn't very funny.

It was sunset before they parted company. Lee, Alicia and Angelina were returning to the Weasleys' house to Floo back to their homes in London, although they of course didn't mention this to their Muggle friend. Before she left for her own home, Claudia touched Fred on the arm, smiled and said, 'Hopefully I'll see you again.' She might not have done so had she known that Fred would be so bullied and teased on the walk home, that by the time they arrived he was beetroot red.

***

Over the next week, Fred and George saw more of Claudia, and her attraction to Fred was about as transparent as Nearly Headless Nick. George thought this was all a bit convenient, and made jokes that she was a succubus who'd picked Fred as her victim because he was obviously too dopey to know the difference. Fred, for his part, boasted that the girl simply knew quality when she saw it. He could be confident that it wasn't so shallow as to be based on appearance, anyway, as Claudia certainly seemed to prefer Fred over George even though they were mirror images.

Fred began spending a lot more time in Ottery St Catchpole, hanging out with Claudia and doing Muggle things like going to movies and watching cricket. All George's ribbing about how dull it must be, and how hard it must be to keep magic out of everything, fell on deaf ears. Fred was actually really enjoying himself.

'We went to an arcade today,' he said through a mouthful of food one dinnertime at their flat above Diagon Alley. 'You ever seen one of those? Crazy. Huge room, full of all these dimwits willing to give perfectly good money to play games you have to watch on little screens.'

George heated his leftover pasta with a single stroke from his wand. 'Was it fun?'

'Eh, it was all right. I found one where if you played it right, you got a teddy. The teddy didn't do anything though, Muggle toys are beyond boring.' Fred swallowed and made a face. 'You know George, I'm thinking we shouldn't keep pasta for more than a few days, this is getting a bit grody.'

Between seeing Claudia and working at the shop, Fred had little time for anything else. As the summer days wore on, dreamy and warm, the Weasley twins threw their backs into coming up with new products to debut, wanting to keep an edge over their primary competitors, like the renowned Zonko's. The Divination Dolls were coming along well, although they were only about as accurate as Muggle fortune telling machines at first – 'I predict that _you_ sir, will grow to be tall, dark and handsome' was all their first prototype ever said, to anyone, including the family owl.

They were also working on a lolly that would allow the eater to work a lightweight memory charm, for those whose charming skills were not up to speed. It was designed to target a particular memory, rather than simply blast everything away as clumsy young witches and wizards tended to do. The concept was simple and brilliant: if one had a specific event that should be forgotten, they needed simply to eat one of the lollies and declare aloud their wish, and it would be gone from their mind permanently. It would be particularly useful for forgetting drunken antics, or the accidental witnessing of something embarrassing.

The day it finally worked, they had been discussing the possibility of regulation and if the lollies would bring them any troublesome legal problems. But this was immediately forgotten in the excitement of hitting on the winning formula. George had brandished a bright green Sneakoscope in Fred's face and explained clearly that it was broken and hadn't worked in years.

Fred downed one of the lollies, which was small and white in colour, and said loudly, 'I want to forget all about that broken Sneakoscope.'

They waited, but there was no visible evidence of anything happening. Finally, George held up the Sneakoscope again and asked, 'Remember this?'

'Hey, wasn't that ours from years ago?' Fred asked cheerfully. 'Does it still work?'

'No, it doesn't! Didn't you know that?'

'No. Haven't seen it in donkeys.'

George slammed a fist on the table. 'Fred, we've done it! I've already told you about the Sneakoscope being broken, and you've forgotten! The lollies work!'

'Yes!' Fred rejoiced. '... are you sure? Because honestly, I would have no way of knowing.'

The buzz from their success had hardly dimmed when Fred looked suddenly at the clock on their kitchen wall, and leapt up with a start.

'What's up?' asked George.

'Said I'd meet Claudia for tea,' Fred said, hurriedly grabbing an ordinary Muggle jacket hanging behind the door. 'Already late, whoops.'

'What about all this?' George complained, indicating their kitchen table, which was strewn with bits of white lolly and half-empty beakers.

'You've got it, don't you, mate?' Fred replied with a grin. 'Be back late, don't wait up.'

And he was gone, Disapparated in a heartbeat. George sat silently for a moment, surprised at how quickly his feeling of elation at a successful experiment had deflated. He wasn't used to celebrating on his own. For the first time since Fred's fling with Claudia had begun, George felt put out.

***

George was proud of himself for not being jealous, when it was all said and done. He and Fred were rarely jealous of each other, because there wasn't opportunity to be. They had grown up with two of everything; their parents had been scrupulous in ensuring that one was never favoured over the other. Furthermore, they had always done everything together, living almost like one person moving about in two bodies. There was never any room for jealously.

Still, they had both known that the day would come when one or other of them would get a girlfriend. They'd laughed about it, made ludicrous predictions about how it would go, and agreed that no girl was ever going to break up their dynamic duo. Still, hadn't that all been a bit fanciful?

Because suddenly there _was_ a third person, and she wasn't even a witch, she was an ordinary Muggle. A cool Muggle, to be sure, but nothing spectacular. George tried to make a joke one morning at breakfast that Fred should have higher standards, and was surprised when Fred actually looked a bit offended. What was that all about?

And, even though George had so far valiantly scorned jealousy, a few weeks of having a third wheel was starting to take its toll. Fred wasn't around nearly so much anymore. He kept scarpering off to the village to see his lady friend, and even when he came back again he talked about her far too much. Despite his best efforts, George started to get all sorts of niggling, irritating and very much unwanted thoughts: does Fred prefer hanging out with Claudia to hanging out with me? What does she see in him anyway? Why does Fred have a girlfriend and I don't, what's my problem? What if they get married and move away, and I have to run the shop by myself and hardly see Fred anymore?

That last question sent George off into a fantasy that plunged into a downward spiral, getting worse and worse. He was just imagining himself destitute on the street because the shop had gone bankrupt under his direction, and Fred didn't care because he was too busy with his seven children, when the real life Fred snapped his fingers in front of George's eyes and he jerked back to the present.

'Hellooo?' Fred called in a stupid voice.

'Ah, sorry,' mumbled George. He was behind the counter in their shop, daydreaming. It was the end of the day and there were only a few customers still poking around the colourful shelves.

'I was gonna ask you a favour but now I wonder if you're up to it,' Fred said with mock concern, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

'Nah, sorry, got a little distracted,' George said. 'What is it?'

'Can you close up tonight?' Fred asked eagerly, eyes bright. 'I'm –'

'– meeting Claudia,' George finished grumpily. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

'Read my mind!' exclaimed Fred, not picking up on George's tone at all, and he pulled off his magenta Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes robe in a hurry, dumping it behind the counter. He was already dressed as a Muggle underneath.

'Been planning this?' George whinged, but Fred didn't hear. He was already clumping up the stairs to the flat, raking fingers through his hair, getting ready to Apparate.

'Thanks!' he called back down.

'Thanks,' muttered George. Then a small boy approached the counter with an armful of Skiving Snackboxes, and George plastered on a smile.

But, hours later, when the last jot was in the ledger and the magical deadlocks were charmed twice over for the best of protection, George couldn't smile anymore. He couldn't help it. He was jealous. Jealous, and grumpy, because apparently the poor sod who _didn't_ have a girlfriend was the one who had to hold down the fort all the time. That hardly seemed fair.

Besides, the shop was extremely lonely without Fred there to make a ruckus and talk nonstop. George entertained the idea of going home to the Burrow for the evening, but brushed it off as lame. It would be obvious to his family how he felt. He didn't need them pitying him, or worse, teasing him. (That was the problem with teasing your family ceaselessly for years on end; when they ever got a chance to tease back, they squeezed every drop of enjoyment out of it that they possibly could.)

Unable to think of anything else to do, George decided to go to bed. But, inwardly, he was boiling uncomfortably with jealousy and anger. _Get over it,_ he thought firmly. _Stop being so pathetic!_

Meanwhile, far outside the shop and high in the indigo sky, an odd new presence hesitated in the middle of its flight, appearing in the air as only the softest of shimmers. It looked downwards, as much as an eyeless creature _can_ look downwards, and inhaled deeply despite not having lungs. It smelled something tasty.

It moved downwards, silent as a shadow but not nearly as visible, glancing off the rooftops and hovering gently over Diagon Alley. Through an upper storey window, it saw a teenage boy, who was trying to disentangle some bed sheets with jerky, fretful movements. The presence lingered there, uncertain, then trickled slowly closer, easing through the wall and into the room without pause.

Again, it breathed in, and the scent was stronger. This boy was the source. The presence shivered with delight, remembering how hungry it was. The smell was new, freshly burning, irresistible. Soundlessly, it moved forward, and dared to touch lightly upon the boy's shoulder...

In a flash, George thought suddenly of what Fred was doing. He was probably all wrapped up with Claudia, laughing, snogging, making empty small talk, while George was here alone, fighting with this infuriating knot of a sheet. Where was the justice in the world? Did he somehow deserve less than his twin? A shot of anger burst inside him, but he expelled it quickly, shaking his head. These thoughts would do no good, and he knew it. If Fred had a girlfriend, then Fred had a girlfriend. End of story. He'd just have to deal with it.

The presence floated to the ceiling, pleased, strengthened.

***

The Weasleys and their friend Lee Jordan were in Ottery St Catchpole the following week, visiting the local pub as they had so enjoyed it last time. George was relieved that, for once, Claudia wasn't with them. Fred said she had to work.

It was almost like normal. The three of them lounged together in the same dingy, squeaky leather booth they'd had last time, and talk turned to reminiscing on their Hogwarts days. Not for the first time, they laughed uncontrollably over Fred and George's final escape from the clutches of Dolores Umbridge, who had taken over the school. They had effectively expelled themselves with that one glorious stunt.

Lee still had tears running down his cheeks when a familiar voice chirped, 'Fred! Hey!'

George stiffened awkwardly, laughter subsiding, as Claudia sprang over to them, beaming like a cheshire cat. She looked rapidly between the twins, who were sitting beside each other, and didn't seem to settle on Fred until he lit up like a Christmas tree and returned a jaunty, 'Hey babe!'

George, however, thought it was interesting that she'd been unable to tell them apart at first. Surely, if she and Fred were getting to know each other as ... _thoroughly_ as Fred was always saying, she could pick it by now? George found it somehow troubling that Fred's supposed girlfriend couldn't pass that simple test (although the only people in the world who absolutely never failed the test were Charlie and Ginny).

The conversation quickly turned boring as Claudia plonked herself down next to Fred and they scooched over, squishing George against the grubby wall. They had to invent a cover story to explain why they'd been laughing, which was the same basic story but with Muggle fireworks and a getaway car instead of broomsticks (Claudia could still scarcely believe it). Quite suddenly, their happy reminiscing was over, and talk turned to the mundane stuff of Muggles. Lee didn't look any happier than George did, although Fred blatantly ignored this.

George prodded at the remains of his club sandwich with a fork, trying to keep the disgust off his face as Claudia prattled about how lucky she was to get the afternoon off work and wouldn't it just be lovely if they all went to the pictures together? While Lee tried to make up an excuse not to go, George sat silent, once again burning with anger. This girl was cramping his style. _Their_ style.

With a sudden burst of fury, he stabbed his sandwich brutally with his fork, making a loud _clang_. Surprised at how fidgety he was, he put the fork down carefully, and mumbled that he had work to do back at the shop.

The presence lifted, returning to its usual haunt just below the beams in the ceiling. It felt very peaceful. _It_ had no difficulty telling those two boys apart. Only one of them was streaming with the delicious scent.

'I guess it's just you and me,' Claudia said sweetly, curling her fingers around Fred's arm. He flashed her a smile, but as they got up to go, he cast an uncomfortable glance at George, which George didn't notice. He was staring dully at the remnants of his sandwich. Fred thought his twin seemed a bit off-colour, and he resolved to bring it up later on.

***

Fred never did bring it up. He forgot about it as thoroughly as if he'd swallowed one of their newly christened Mindlapse Minties, as he and Claudia made their way to the cinema, discussing which of the summer blockbusters they should see this time. It was another great afternoon, why spoil it just because George was being a bit of a downer?

The next night, which was balmy with a clear sky, Fred left George with the shop once again and headed off into the village to meet Claudia for tea. This time, he did feel vaguely guilty, just a little. He'd hardly been at the shop at all over the past week. Claudia always wanted to do something, and Fred could hardly say no to a lovely lady seeking his attention. Besides, George didn't know what it was like, to have a girl like Claudia fawn all over you. It was a bit addictive. Fred just hoped that the half a day he'd spent painstakingly wrapping those Nosebleed Nougats yesterday would be enough to get him off the hook (it would have been quicker by magic, but you can charge more for handmade things).

Dinner was a slow-paced, lazy affair of noodles in a Chinese restaurant that was about as Chinese as Fred himself – not at all. Fred listened with surprising patience as Claudia talked about her career ambitions. He didn't find 'engine earring' to be a very interesting subject – it sounded like something Percy would talk about – but anything she said, no matter how Percyesque, was somehow pleasing to the ear.

Afterwards, they ambled down the street hand-in-hand, peeking into shop windows and lamenting that everything was closing up so early. After all that chilli, Fred was in the mood for ice-cream. As they passed by the central square, a bright pink shop with many lingering people caught his eye.

'Oh-ho-ho, what do we have here?' he cried triumphantly, pointing. 'Is that not an ice-cream shop?'

'Oh, I'd forgotten!' Claudia exclaimed. 'They're open till 11 in summer. I'd kill for a strawberry, they're really good.'

'Allow me,' said Fred gallantly, fishing in the pockets of his jeans for some Muggle money. It was actually wizard money that he'd transfigured, having used up his stocks of real Muggle money ages ago.

Claudia snuck a hand onto his shoulder teasingly. 'You're too kind.'

'Well, yeah,' Fred agreed, lowering his head a little so that their eyes were on a level. He kissed her automatically, and she kissed back, and for one little moment they hung there in happiness.

Fred broke away, grinned, and excused himself. 'I'll get the ice-creams. It's pretty crowded, do you want to wait here?' He indicated a wrought-iron bench set against a large statue in the square.

Claudia took a seat and stared contentedly at the stars as Fred headed over to the ice-cream place. This, she felt, was truly summer. Living in this village wasn't so bad with a spunky young man like Fred to gad about with. True, he was no Edward Cullen (a dog-eared copy of _Twilight_ was beside her bed at home, a guilty pleasure!), but sexy vampires weren't real, anyway. Fred at least had the 'sexy' bit down pat.

Only a moment later, Fred reappeared, ice-creamless.

'What's the matter?' asked Claudia, noticing that he looked a bit miffed.

'Sold out,' he said grumpily. 'I'm devastated.'

'Oh, well, it's okay,' Claudia said quietly, getting up and taking his hand. 'I've got some ice-cream back home ... if you like.'

She tensed, but she needn't have worried. Fred cheerfully proclaimed it a capital idea, and she began to lead him in the direction of her home, heart thudding excitedly. She mentally ran through everything that could be wrong at home – was her mother home? Was there underwear on display? What would Fred say if he saw she was reading _Twilight?_

'So, let me ask you something,' Fred interrupted her thoughts. 'We've been seeing each other a while now...'

'Yes,' she whispered, thudding heart picking up even more speed.

'I was wondering ... what you think of me? Of us,' he added hastily, not looking at her.

'Oh, you mean...'

'Well, is this, you know, going anywhere? You and me? This?' Fred couldn't seem to find the right way to put it.

Claudia giggled stupidly, feeling about five years younger. 'What do you think?'

'I want to know what _you_ think,' he said quickly.

She chewed her lip for a moment. 'Well ... I like to think so. Don't you?'

'Sure, sure,' Fred agreed at once. He didn't look very excited about it.

Quite suddenly, a loud and piercing yell split the silent air. _'GEORGE!'_

Claudia turned to look behind them, back towards the square, and was surprised to see a familiar figure running towards them. For a moment, she thought it must be George, Fred's twin, because he looked just like the guy next to her. But then she noticed that the newcomer was holding two dripping pink ice-cream cones, and the penny dropped.

'George?!' she gasped in surprise, pulling her hand away and taking a step back from the grimacing character beside her. Fred ... and it must be Fred ... had run up to them and was wearing an uncharacteristically thunderous expression that clashed with the cheerful ice-creams in his hands.

Claudia looked back and forth between the two of them, flabbergasted. They were dressed exactly the same. There was no way to tell them apart that she could see. She could only assume that the one who looked like he was about to commit murder was her Fred, because of the ice-creams he held. The other one just looked grim.

'I don't believe you!' Fred yelled, his voice echoing around the quiet street. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?!'

George shrugged glumly. Fred hesitated, then thrust the ice-creams at Claudia with a short 'Hold these', before seizing his brother by the shirt-front and lugging him some distance away. Claudia stood, cold ice-cream beginning to drip on her hands, feeling somehow violated.

'I _don't_ believe you,' Fred hissed, jabbing a finger in George's chest. 'This is the lowest thing you've ever done! What were you planning to do, make out with her?'

'No!' George said at last, suddenly looking just as incensed.

'Could have fooled me!' cried Fred, throwing up his hands in a gesture not unlike something their mother would do. He shook his head, staring, shocked. 'Why did you do that? Do you just hate me? Or do you like her?'

'I _don't_ like her,' George spat, and Claudia must have heard because she turned suddenly away, looking awkward. 'And I doubt she likes you. She can't even tell us apart. I proved it.'

Fred's mouth actually fell open. He stared for a moment, gobsmacked, then gave George a shove and said in a low voice, 'You haven't heard the end of this. Get lost.'

It was Fred who put an arm around Claudia, took his ice-cream and began to apologise profusely, trying to explain that George wasn't normally like that and that it was the most sick joke he'd ever seen. Claudia was happy enough to accept the apology, but she was a little put off by it, and rather than going back to her house they ended up sitting in the park for another hour, licking ice-cream and talking. Fred was at a loss to explain George's behaviour, and when Claudia asked in a tiny voice what she'd done to make George hate her, Fred felt rage brim inside him. It was nigh on unforgivable.

George had retreated to a dark corner of the street and Apparated himself back to the flat. Once in his room, he glanced miserably in the mirror, regarding the outfit he'd carefully assembled in order to match Fred, then sat down heavily on his bed.

He felt sick. What had seemed at first like a good plot to uncover just how well Claudia really did know Fred now looked like one of the most revolting things he'd ever done. Fred would never forgive him, George knew that. They'd always had the potential to masquerade as each other behind each other's backs, but there was an unspoken trust that they would never do such a thing. This, then, was an enormous betrayal. What if he'd done permanent damage? What if this was the end of them? He couldn't imagine himself and Fred ever laughing over something again, not anymore. Fred would probably be angry for the rest of his life.

Feeling like he deserved it and thoroughly ashamed, George kicked his shoes off, turned out the light and hid under his sheets, still fully dressed. He had no idea how he could possibly get to sleep.

In the darkness, the gentle presence that had been following George for days now became slightly more visible, shimmering with a faint green tinge. It settled onto the bed, and breathed in deeply.

***

On to Part 2...


	2. Chapter 2

In the wee hours of the morning, George heard the _crack_ of Fred Apparating into their flat. He hadn't slept a wink. He was dreading the pounding he was going to get, and he knew he deserved it completely. He was having difficulty explaining, even to himself, why he'd done it. He _was_ feeling sort of jealous, and it had seemed like a funny way to test if Claudia really liked Fred for Fred, but there was nothing funny about it in retrospect. His stomach clenched painfully.

Only seconds later, he heard the door to his room bang open violently, the lights flared on, and the sheets were ripped off him. George sat up quickly but was knocked down almost at once by a forceful shove from Fred, who looked bloodthirsty.

'_Why,_ George?!' he demanded.

George sat up again, unable to meet his brother's eyes. There was no way out of this. 'I don't know,' he mumbled. 'I'm sorry.'

'You're _sorry?!'_ exclaimed Fred, stomping around the room, kicking over the wastepaper basket. 'You've done a number on her! She's not sure if I'm trustworthy now, can't get over the fact you hate her, kept asking questions about fake outs we've done.' He stormed back to the bed and bent down, forcing George to meet his eyes. 'You're a complete wanker. I'll never forget this.'

'I'm sorry,' George repeated miserably, looking down again.

'You haven't told me _why,'_ Fred insisted. 'That's what I can't fathom. _Why_ you thought it was such a great idea to pose as me and lead my girlfriend on. What was going on in your head?! We've never used fake outs _against_ each other before.'

'It wasn't about hurting you –' George started.

But Fred cut in. 'So it was about hurting _her?'_

'No!' George rubbed his temples. His brain was working slowly, thickly. 'No. I didn't want to hurt her either. I just wanted to see ... she can't tell us apart ... how much can she like you, if she can't tell us apart?'

'_Most people_ can't tell us apart!' Fred bellowed, spreading his arms as if to indicate the whole world. 'Our own _mother_ still gets us confused! Do you think that somehow means that _Mum_ doesn't like us?!'

George felt the logic of that hit him like a cold shower. He stared at his fingers, knotted in his lap. 'No.'

'Bloody hell!' Fred exhaled in a rush.

They were silent for a few moments. George felt honestly quite crushed, and as he sat there mooching in woe, the delicate tendrils of his floating shadow brushed along his shoulders. The sick feeling in his stomach suddenly, inexplicably, cleared up.

Fred, meanwhile, put a hand to his head and tried to calm down. He could see that George was sorry, but it wasn't enough for him. Claudia's confused and sad face was still foremost in his mind. He knew that George had been off his game recently, but this was absurd.

'This isn't over,' he said finally. 'Far from it. You're gonna make up for the damage you've done.'

A muscle in George's face twitched. 'Whatever you say.'

Fred glared. 'What?'

'I said' – George looked up and pulled an ugly face – '_whatever you say.'_

Fred was shocked. 'What's with the attitude? Are you sorry, or not?' He could feel rage building up again.

'I don't answer to _you,'_ George snapped, lying down as if to go back to sleep. 'Shut the door on your way out.'

Fred gaped, stunned into speechlessness. As George turned his back, the light from the lamp caught his face in an odd way, making his eyes look greenish and unpleasant.

Without another word, Fred stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him with all the force he could muster.

***

Fred made a makeshift home for himself on the living room floor of Claudia's house, which her mum was thankfully okay with. Claudia was thrilled when Fred showed up on her doorstep the next morning, a roll-up mattress under one arm and a backpack under the other, but her smile fell when he explained why.

'George is being a git,' he said bitterly, manoeuvring the mattress into the prime viewing real estate in front of the TV. 'I've had enough.'

'What about your shop?' Claudia asked timidly, torn between wanting Fred to stay, and wanting to help him patch things up with his brother.

'George can do it by himself,' Fred declared. 'He deserves to have a hard time of it, too.'

George, for his part, was not surprised to find Fred gone when he surfaced that morning, and he only needed one guess as to where Fred was. He banged about in the kitchen, making breakfast as noisily and violently as he could, hoping to vent some of the anger he felt, which was mostly directed at himself.

A few days slid by without a word exchanged between the twins. George theorised that it was the longest they'd ever gone without even seeing each other – so much for never letting a girl break up the dynamic duo. The flat was eerily quiet and dull. The shop bustled as much as ever, which typically George would have enjoyed; but he was running it by himself, and the lack of sleep began to wear on his nerves.

Unbeknownst to him, the silky glimmer was still there keeping him company. It was more energetic these days, following like a puppy and happily latching on to George whenever he felt particularly angry or irritated. When that happened, George would suddenly feel better, but he didn't feel much like himself. His anger at himself was subsiding and being rapidly replaced by anger at Fred. George knew that the fake out had been a horrible idea, but how long could Fred hold a grudge? Frankly, it was _just_ as low an act for Fred to ditch George like this when he knew they had the summer market to cater for.

Meanwhile, Fred spent his days with his Muggle girlfriend, now watchful 24/7 that he didn't let slip with something a little too wizardly. It was more difficult to keep up now that he was living in a Muggle house. Muggles, he felt, had a torturous existence. Everything took ten times longer, was less effective, and was far more dull. There was one particularly grim night where he found himself assisting Claudia and her mother with the washing up. This was a horrible affair that involving standing on his feet so long they ached, holding a damp tea towel and scrubbing it over sopping dishes in a futile effort to make them dry. He could have dried the lot with a single spell, and it took all he had to resist the temptation. Using magic in the presence of Muggles was simply not done.

Still, he wondered how long he could go without telling Claudia the truth. If things really got serious between them, she'd have to know. He wasn't sure things would get serious; wasn't this, after all, just a summer fling? It wasn't until one night when he was standing there in the kitchen, swaying on his feet and dabbing idly at yet another soapy crockpot, that it dawned on him: even if he wasn't serious, _she_ was, and this was never going to work.

He liked Claudia very much, and they had a lot of fun, but she wasn't a witch and Fred had never in his life envisioned himself with a girl who wasn't a witch, and a hardcore one at that. It was more than that though, he thought sadly. Claudia wasn't _like_ him. She was, essentially, a good girl ... or she wouldn't be helping her mother night after night with these ruddy dishes. Fred didn't mind that she was the way she was; what bothered him was what she _wasn't_. She wasn't someone he could pull a heist with. She wasn't the sort to sneak about or laugh at his practical jokes. She wasn't the sort who would appreciate getting down and dirty, playing with homemade fireworks or harassing Ron until his ears turned red. In fact, if things kept going like this, she was probably going to _tame_ him. Fred held the tea towel at arm's length, suddenly mortified by what it represented.

For the first time since he'd stormed from the flat, Fred missed George. He wished George was there to discuss this issue. He thought he should still be mad, but, looking around the ordinary Muggle kitchen with its electrical appliances and unmoving photos stuck to the fridge, Fred wondered if maybe George had seen this coming all along. Maybe George had thought Fred wasn't serious and that pulling a fake out wouldn't be a big deal.

Either that, or Fred was making excuses because he hated living in this Muggle house and he wanted to go home. He knew, then, that it was time to return to the flat and sort things out. After that he would consider what to do about Claudia.

One evening, Fred packed up his things, thanked Claudia's mother for her hospitality, and headed out to the street where he would pretend to hail a taxi. Claudia walked with him to the footpath, an encouraging smile on her face.

'Let me know when you two have worked it out,' she said kindly. 'I know he doesn't like me, but I hope...'

She was squeezing his hand rather tightly. Fred could just about feel the dog collar of domesticity being tightened around his neck, and he pulled away abruptly.

'I'll see you soon,' was all he said as he hurried off into the dusk. Those few days of Muggle life had taught him much.

***

Fred Apparated into Diagon Alley, and approached their shop slowly. He was trying to think about what he should say. Part of him was still angry, but another more dominant part just wanted to call it all off and make things normal again. It was hard work being angry at George. It was like being angry at part of himself – not feasible. At least, not for too long.

It was coming up to eight, and the shop was closed. Fred let himself in, enjoying the feeling of using his wand to open the door instead of fumbling with a stupid Muggle key that was so easy to drop or lose. Inside, all was dark and quiet. Fred flicked his wand casually, turning on the lights like he'd done a thousand times before, but stopped short, staring at the scene that met his eyes.

It looked like somebody had dropped a small bomb near the counter. The floor had a smouldering black scar on it. Reusable Hangmen were scattered all the way to the door, torn limb from limb. A wall hanging that usually had a hilarious depiction of Merlin tripping over his beard was half-burned away, and Merlin was cowering in the remaining half, looking traumatised.

Fred stepped closer, dropping his mattress and bag as he went, befuddled at what all the charred and twisted black clumps were. Upon further inspection, he thought he saw a tiny glint of purple; and then he realised the significance of the location. His Nosebleed Nougats! Destroyed! After all those hours! He gave an angry sigh and kicked uselessly at the remains.

Well, one guess who'd done it. Fred felt a little more grim now. George must have been in a state if he'd been angry enough to blow up Fred's beautiful display. Fred paused, staring at the smoky mess without really seeing it, because a thought had just occurred to him. A rather disconcerting thought.

All that mooching and seeming down; posing as Fred to trick Claudia; and destroying Fred's pride and joy in the shop? By themselves these things were irritating at best, infuriating at worst, but put them together and they made an altogether different picture. It wasn't a picture Fred recognised. At the end of the day, all this behaviour was simply _unlike_ George. George was easygoing, even-tempered, with a sense of fairness that was far more reliable than Fred's. But the way he was acting at the moment made Fred look like the saintly Percy.

Was there something going on that Fred didn't know about? Should he be worried? He moved past the counter and started to climb the stairs to their flat, stepping expertly around the creaky places from force of habit. It was confrontation time.

But that fled from his mind when a _crack_ of Apparition sounded upstairs, and with it, the sound of a high-pitched scream. A female scream. Claudia's scream!

_Claudia? Here? How?_ Fred pounded up the stairs, confused. When he burst into the living room of the little flat over the shop, his confusion deepened into utter bewilderment.

George and Claudia were both there. George had his arms locked around Claudia, and for a brief and mortifying moment, Fred thought he was trying to cuddle her. But the look of terror on his girlfriend's face said otherwise.

'What's going on?!' Fred asked stupidly, standing frozen in the doorway.

'_Fred!'_ Claudia shrieked, extending a hand to him. _'Help me!'_

'Wh-what?'

'Out of the way!' barked George in a voice that didn't sound like him at all. Fred noticed that George looked terrible, like he hadn't slept in a week. He was a mess of bedraggled hair and crushed clothing.

Fred couldn't move. This was inexplicable. He didn't know which he found more worrying, the fact that George looked like a zombie and was trying to crush Claudia, or the fact Claudia was there, in their flat, when he'd left her behind in the village mere minutes ago. All he could do was gape.

George shoved Claudia forward, and she sprawled onto the ground, sobbing with fear. Fred started to move towards her, but George drew his wand lightning fast and yelled, _'Stupefy!'_

Fred reacted quickly enough to throw himself to one side, and the spell ricocheted harmlessly off the door jamb, striking some of the wood apart. He stumbled against the couch, half-trying to catch himself before he fell and half-trying to get to his wand, which was wedged in his jeans pocket. 'George, what are you doing?!' was all he could think to say.

But George wasn't listening. He was busy seizing Claudia by the back of her jumper, and, dragging her along like a dog, he started stomping back down the stairs. Fred swore, finally got a grip on his wand, and pelted down after them.

Back in the shop, Fred came to a skidding halt when he saw what was happening. George had a look on his face nothing short of crazed as he tossed Claudia in a heap, kicked her, aimed his wand at her face and commanded, _'Imperio.'_

'_Are you out of your mind?!'_ Fred cried, shocked that his brother would use an Unforgivable Curse, shocked that his brother was going mental, and still trying to fathom the fact his Muggle girlfriend was in his wizarding joke shop.

The curse was effective at once. Claudia went rigid, eyes wide, gaping at George, who pulled something from his jacket pocket. Fred edged closer, wand raised at George and feeling sick to his stomach, trying to get a look at the thing in his brother's hand.

It was a small, sinister-looking crystal vial, filled with an evil black fluid. Fred didn't know what it was and wasn't interested in finding out. He levelled his wand, but his hand was shaking. He couldn't attack George, even if he was off his rocker. He couldn't.

'_What – is – happening?!'_ he demanded coldly, while Claudia's staring eyes began to water.

'Brought your girlfriend here,' George smiled, 'Apparated her right over. How come you've never bothered telling her you're a wizard?' His voice was reedy and strained. Fred felt chills run down his arms when George tilted his head to give Fred a dead stare. For some reason Fred couldn't grasp, George's eyes were green. It wasn't a trick of the light this time. Had he been experimenting with self-transfiguration or something?

'Okay,' Fred said evenly, mind racing, trying to work this out. 'Just calm down. Put your wand down, mate. Come on now.'

'I don't like her,' George said softly, looking like putting his wand down was the last thing he was going to do. 'She's been taking you away. She has to go.'

Claudia, unable to move, was nevertheless trembling from head to foot as she kneeled there, transfixed, waiting. Fred glanced at her nervously. He had the feeling it was _his_ wand that Claudia was gaping at in disbelief.

'You're not yourself,' he tried, looking back to George and hoping he sounded reassuring. 'I think something's the matter with you.'

George suddenly clenched his jaw, as if fighting to hold back a wave of sick. Fred hesitated, still wrestling with himself about whether or not he should attack his own brother, or if it was better to try to get Claudia out of harm's way first. Then George spoke in a very halting voice, grinding the sound through his teeth.

'Fred ... I'm not ...'

'Huh?'

George turned to Claudia, face impassive again, and held out the little vial. 'Drink it,' he ordered. At once, bound by the Imperius Curse, Claudia took the vial in both hands and pulled out the stopper.

Fred panicked.

'_Stupefy!'_ he yelled, aiming squarely at George.

George reacted with incredible speed, blocking the attack – _'Protego!'_ – and at once retaliating without missing a beat –_ 'Stupefy!'_

Fred dodged, hearing something behind him blow up. He frantically racked his brain for a disabling spell that wasn't too harmful, but in his alarm could only think of Stunning, and that hadn't worked. Looking up, he saw that Claudia had the vial to her mouth.

'_Petrificus totalus!'_ he cried desperately, now aiming at Claudia. She froze, solid as a statue, the vial touching her lips but teeth not parted. The inky liquid drained down her chin harmlessly.

Fred deflated in relief. The black potion was staining her shirt but that was better than staining her insides – who knew what it would have done! But there wasn't time to relax. George, upon seeing that the potion had just been wasted, began to suddenly jerk about as if having a fit.

Fred approached cautiously, sickened, wishing he knew what to do. He held out a hand to steady George, but then something even weirder happened that made Fred stop dead.

Something large, green and mostly transparent was swelling out above George's head like an enormous mushroom. Fred could only stare, feeling leaden, as some sort of creature began to take form. It was shaped like an octopus, from what he could see: soft, shimmering, jelly-like, a definite shade of green. It didn't have a face. It did seem to have tentacles, and they were all fixed firmly to George's head.

Claudia, from her petrified kneeling position on the floor, was gaping at the green thing and silently screaming with her eyes. Fred didn't know what this thing was, but he knew Dark magic when he saw it, and he didn't approve of it being plugged in to his twin one little bit. He staggered backwards, then moved so he was in front of Claudia, just in case, and pointed his wand at the creature.

'Get off him!' Fred yelled furiously. 'What are you supposed to be?!'

The thing pulsed, billowing as if made of many silky fibres. Fred had to keep tilting his head, because if he stayed still long enough, the creature seemed to blend with its surroundings. Then, he heard a voice, but not a sound. He heard it inside his head, a trembling shudder inside his bones, something invasive and warped.

_Why do you interfere?_ it whispered.

Fred pushed statue-Claudia back a bit, suddenly wishing there was about a Quidditch pitch more space between him and this creature. George stood still, looking dazed, eyes blinking out of sync as he tried to focus on the scene before him.

'Get off him!' Fred snapped again, and flicked his wand, sending a stream of burning sparks at the creature. But they passed through it without doing any damage, as if the thing was not there at all. This was definitely not a good sign.

Quick as he could, Fred tossed a _'Finite Incantatem!'_ at Claudia, whose stiff form gave way. She stumbled, gagging, the spells lifted.

'Claud, go!' said Fred urgently, batting at her with one hand, not taking his eyes off the spectre. He could hear her somewhere behind him, blundering around the displays.

'Fred, what is this?!' she sobbed wretchedly, voice high and shrill.

_You will not escape,_ the ghostly voice quavered in Fred's mind, and Fred knew that Claudia had heard it too from her sudden scream.

'What is this?! What is this?!' she kept crying.

_Stupid girl,_ the voice simpered. _It's ridiculous how he likes her more than you, isn't it?_

Fred was puzzled, until he realised the voice must be addressing George, who began to tremble and raised his wand at Fred with a sudden lurch.

'George, it's controlling you!' yelled Fred in a panic. 'There's a dirty great green thing on your head, it's controlling you, fight it!'

_Control?_ the voice repeated lightly. _I do not control. I only enhance what is already there._

'That's rubbish!' Fred scoffed, trying hard not to let his hand shake as he and George faced off, wands ready. 'He doesn't want to do this!'

_Finish him,_ the voice crooned gently, speaking to George once again. _He is a fool. What good is he?_

George was straining now, sweat beading on his forehead, eyes bright and focused grimly on Fred's mortified face. Fred could hear Claudia whimpering like a frightened puppy from somewhere near the door. Even though instinct told him he should be either casting some sort of shield or running like the wind, he stood his ground. Because, stronger than the urge to fight or fly, was his gut feel that George would never 'finish him', no matter the circumstance.

It was a gamble. Fred stood, unprotected, and very slowly lowered his wand. George watched this, breathing hard. Fred stared back.

_Perhaps you could use the Cruciatus Curse,_ the voice rang in their heads again. _It would repay the hurt he has caused._

George winced.

'Come on, George,' said Fred quietly. 'This is stupid.'

_Never has there been such pain as the Cruciatus Curse,_ the voice went on sweetly. _Who can stand it? It will satiate your anger..._

'How 'bout you stop with the suggestions and let him decide for himself?' Fred flared.

'No,' George breathed in a tiny voice. 'It's a good idea.'

Fred blanched, but still didn't raise his wand. 'You ... no. George, _don't listen to it!'_

'It's a good idea –' George said again, more forcefully, as the green thing wafted pleasantly, enjoying itself, '– to use the Cruciatus Curse, Fred. Nothing can stand it.'

Fred gaped, horrified, taking a small step back. George was staring at him intensely, shaking, and Fred suddenly registered that George's eyes were once again the familiar brown. George gave a tiny nod, nearly imperceptible.

And Fred understood.

He hesitated, only for a second, but knew that he would have to act quickly. If he thought about it too much, he would never be able to go through with it. George didn't react as Fred raised his wand again, steeled his nerves and forced himself to pour all his anger, previously directed at George, into the image of that floating green thing.

'_Crucio!'_ he said clearly.

George screamed and fell down at once, dropping his wand and crumpling in pain, but he wasn't the only one. An unearthly wail sounded in Fred's head, making his skull rattle, and the billowing green spectre burst upwards, swirling over George, frantically disentangling itself as it sought to escape the curse. Fred kept it up, ignoring the feeling of distress throbbing in his temples, fixated on George as he writhed and tossed about on the ground, every muscle in spasms of excruciating agony...

Claudia was shrieking, adding to the din, and the creature kept howling, seeming to have difficulty extracting itself; but at last, it pulled free, rocketed to the ceiling, and halted there, shivering.

Fred lowered his wand immediately, and George relaxed, slumping. Fred was so shaken he couldn't think straight. His cheeks were wet.

Again, the voice spoke, but for the last time. It sounded softly in Fred's head, a subtle murmur. _Such strength I have never seen._

Fred gazed up at it, as it began to disperse, sparkling grains flying in all directions. It melted into the ceiling, flitted through the walls and drained through the cracks in the floor. Quite suddenly, it was gone, and Fred stood thunderstruck, with his Muggle girlfriend weeping on the floor behind him, and his barely conscious brother groaning on the floor in front of him.

***

It was several long, miserable moments before George felt ready to open his eyes again. When he did, he found himself looking at Fred, who was kneeling on the ground beside him looking overcome with anxiety.

'Bloody hell!' Fred exploded, 'I thought I'd done you in!'

'So did I,' George muttered, sitting up slowly, his head spinning. 'What happened to –'

'That thing? Gone,' Fred pronounced, looking around the room just in case he was wrong. 'It ran for it. I think it was pretty hurt.'

'You don't say,' George grunted, rubbing his head. 'That curse felt like being stabbed with about a million needles over and over again.'

Fred looked pained. 'Sorry.'

'Don't be sorry, you git, it was brilliant,' George smiled, and Fred felt at once relieved. That sounded _much_ more like the George he knew.

'I only have one complaint,' George continued. 'Why in blazes didn't you use _Expelliarmus_ on me from the start? Wasn't that obvious?'

Fred slumped down with a groan. 'Well, if you think you could have done a better job under the circumstances –'

A sudden shriek made them both jump and peer around at Claudia, who was standing as far away from them as possible, fists balled at her sides and shaking all over like a leaf in the wind. _'What,'_ she screeched, _'is going on?!'_

Fred felt his stomach do an uncomfortable lurch. He got up and held his hands up placatingly.

'Okay, you shouldn't have found out like this,' he admitted up front, 'but George and I might possibly be wizards.'

'_What?!'_ she shrilled, in a higher voice than either of the Weasleys had ever heard.

'I'm sorry about the other night,' George piped up, addressing both of them. 'I was under the influence of a veriyeux.'

Claudia made an infuriated 'Eep!' sound, and Fred looked baffled. 'You know what it was?'

'I suspected it,' George nodded, shamefaced. 'A veriyeux, a.k.a. a green-eyed monster. It finds people who are ... angry, or upset; and it feeds off them. Anger makes it strong, so it tries to make the person even angrier.'

'Wow,' Fred said. 'I've never heard of it.' Claudia just said 'Eep!' again.

'Neither had I, till yesterday,' George agreed. 'I thought I was going nutty, but I found a reference to it in _The Monster Book of Monsters._ Thought it fit.'

'I knew we kept our old books for a reason,' Fred said with a grin, but became suddenly serious again. 'Guess I owe you an apology, mate. I thought you were just being a prat. Don't s'pose I was much better, either, leaving you with the shop.'

George looked a bit flushed around the edges. 'That monster wouldn't have got a hold of me at all if I hadn't been a bit jealous,' he admitted quietly. 'Reckon I'm the one who owes the apology.'

George took Fred's extended hand and was pulled to his feet.

'Oh, and sorry about the nougats, too,' he added hastily.

'Forget it,' Fred shrugged. 'But next time, we package by magic.'

'_Magic!'_ squeaked Claudia, and the twins looked back at her, as if they hadn't noticed she was there. This was not lost on her. She skirted furiously around them as if they were poisonous, backing into the counter, mopping at the black splatter on her chin.

'What was that potion?' Fred asked conversationally. He felt bad for Claudia, but he was so relieved that things were all right with George again that he just felt like laughing.

'Draught of death,' George replied, 'with a little essence of eel to get that black colour down, and some firewort to make it extra painful. Made it last night, when I was contemplating murder, you know.'

'Cool.'

'_It's not cool!'_ screamed Claudia, and now Fred did feel guilty. She kept spitting, scrabbling at her mouth. _'I can't get this freaking taste out of my mouth!'_

'Did you actually swallow any?' George asked in concern, but Claudia spun around and thrust her hand into a bowl of mints on the countertop, hurriedly shovelling them down.

'Whoa! Whoa!' cried Fred, grabbing her arm, but she punched him away. He looked stung.

'_I can't believe this!'_ she screeched, bits of mint falling from her lips. _'You're a freaking WIZARD? Magic is REAL?'_

'Spit those out!' cried Fred, but she just started to weep.

'_Your brother tried to KILL me, Fred Weasley!'_ she sobbed hysterically, now gripping the counter for support. _'And you don't even CARE!'_

'Ouch,' muttered George, as Fred looked lost.

Claudia took a few huge, shaking breaths, clutching at her heart. 'We're finished, Fred,' she quavered. 'I don't want any of _this_. I don't know how I'm ever supposed to get over it. I'm gonna be hearing that thing in my nightmares for months!'

'W-well,' Fred stuttered, 'If you want, um, there are ways to help you forget –'

'Help me forget?!' she squawked, face twisted cruelly. 'That's right, that's exactly what I need! To forget _this, _forget _you! _I wish I'd never even _met_ you!'

Fred's jaw dropped, George suppressed a gasp, and Claudia went suddenly stiff, eyes glazed. An instant later, she sank to the floor in a mess of half-chewed Mindlapse Minties, with an unceremonious thud.

***

Fred and George cleaned Claudia up and moved her back to her house, sneaking in, depositing her on the couch and succeeding in not waking her mother. They lingered for a while, uncertain if the overdose of Mindlapse Minties would cause unforeseen side effects, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. At last, they returned to the flat and went to sleep themselves, too exhausted to think much about what had just happened.

Fred didn't wake up again until the next afternoon, when the already sinking sun snuck through the curtain and got him in the face. He quickly made himself presentable and ventured to Claudia's house, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.

The doorbell was answered by Claudia herself. Fred smiled, but the smile she gave in return was one of politeness. There was no hugging or cheerful greeting, or even any angry yelling or slammed doors. There was just ... blankness.

'Can I help you?' she asked civilly.

Maybe this was the cold shoulder, but maybe she just didn't recognise him. Fred tossed around a few ideas about what to say, and ended up settling on, 'Uhh...'

'If you're selling something, I'm not interested, thanks,' said Claudia briefly, and made to close the door, but Fred caught it.

'Wait up ... do I know you?'

He cocked his head and squinted like she was a long-lost high school friend. Claudia observed him for a moment, then shook her head. 'Sorry, no, I don't think so.'

The door closed.

Fred knew it was over. The Minties had done their work and erased Claudia's memories of him.

He'd been thinking about ending it anyway, hadn't he. She was a Muggle, he was a wizard, it was never supposed to be. She was clingy, and freaked out easily, and would never have been much use in a spot of trouble. It was better this way. Still, as he slowly walked back up the footpath, dragging his feet, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of mourning. After all, up until the attempted murder and the torturing and stuff, it had been fun.

***

'So, after I successfully tortured the veriyeux out of hiding –'

'Torturing me in the process, though you'll notice he doesn't mention that now –'

'It wimped out and ran for it, split into little pieces –'

'After which I was all right, but Claudia was spitting chips –'

'I suppose it was a shock to the system –'

'Unfortunately she thought it was a good idea to eat a whole pile of our Mindlapse Minties, trademark pending –'

'And she said something very rash and insincere about wishing she'd never met me –'

'So the Minties erased her memories of Fred –'

'And now she can't remember a thing,' Fred and George finished together.

There was a long moment of silence around the table, during which their father let out an appreciative breath he'd been holding, and Lee Jordan remembered the forkful of sausage he'd been trying to eat for ten minutes and got it down at last. Fred and George were glad to have their friend round for this particular dinner at the Burrow, as their mother was much less likely to spit the dummy if there was company. As it was, a muscle in her temple was twitching ominously, and she seemed to be holding in a barrage of admonishments behind a very set jaw.

'You're certain she doesn't remember?' Arthur Weasley asked hesitantly. 'Because, with all she saw and experienced –'

'It's all gone,' Fred affirmed grimly. 'She thought I was trying to sell something when I went round there again.'

George nodded somberly, but he seemed to be suppressing a smile.

'You really used the Cruciatus Curse?' Lee asked, looking awed. 'And the Imperius Curse?'

'You'll rot in Azkaban for that, both of you!' their mother lamented suddenly, looking distressed and flinging a tea towel down in protest.

'Nobody saw us, Mum,' George said confidently. 'Except for Claudia, and she doesn't count now.'

'And we're not underage anymore, so the Ministry isn't keeping tabs on us,' Fred added. 'They'll never find out.'

'And it's not like it's left me with addled brains,' George said delicately, 'thanks for asking, by the way.'

'So there's no problem,' Fred concluded.

Their mother was shaking her head, eyes flashing, barely restraining herself; but their father leaned forward and asked eagerly, 'What was it like, living with a Muggle, Fred? What did you see?'

'_Arthur!'_ snapped Molly, 'he should _not _be encouraged to think that it was right to lead that poor Muggle on!' But Fred beamed and launched into a somewhat embellished tale of the life of tedium he'd observed, and he had a keen audience.

Much later that evening, Fred and George parted ways from Lee, and returned to their flat yawning. George was particularly exhausted after everything that had happened, and got ready for bed rather mechanically, dreaming of a peaceful sleep that wasn't disrupted by worries supernaturally influenced or otherwise.

He had his hand on the doorknob to his room, in pyjamas and ready to just fall onto his pillow, when Fred piped up from somewhere behind him, 'So you were really jealous, huh?'

George turned, glowering at his twin, who was skulking about in the living room, wearing a jumper over his pyjamas and holding a small box.

'A little, yes,' George had to admit, much to his chagrin.

Fred grinned toothily. 'Aww, cheer up. You'll be happy to know it all ended in tears.'

'You could say that.' George considered this comment, then broke into a sly grin of his own. 'I noticed _you_ weren't exactly dry-eyed.'

Fred flinched a little. 'Well, without wishing to be rude, I don't ever want to do that again. The _look_ on your face...'

He trailed off, and George quickly changed the subject. 'What've you got there?'

'Ah.' Fred reached into the box, and pulled out a small, square toffee. 'A little something to remember Claudia by, actually. That paper shop where she works always had a box of these on their counter. They're pretty good. I was wondering if we could replicate the taste with one of our products.'

George smirked. 'You softie.'

'Meh.' Fred chucked one at George. 'Here, you'll see what I mean.'

George caught it, and turned the handle into his room. 'Night then.'

'Night.'

Shutting the door behind him, George popped the toffee in his mouth, and rolled into bed. It tasted familiar, and as he wondered where he knew it from, he suddenly had an odd sensation all over his scalp, like someone had set his head on fire.

He spat it out at once, shot out of bed and threw the door open.

'_Fred!'_

Fred strolled nonchalantly into view, smiling pleasantly.

'Was that a Tangle Toffee?!' George growled, already knowing the answer.

'Oh, how did that get in there?' Fred said in mock surprise, taking another from the little box, but this one was quite a different shape and colour. 'Fancy me dropping a specially modified, long-lasting, fluorescent Tangle Toffee in with these! Careless.'

George felt his head getting heavier by the moment. He looked down to see that his hair, which was now a shocking shade of iridescent green, had already grown to his knees and was still going. It finally stopped just as it brushed his feet.

'You should be able to cut that in a few days,' Fred said through a mouthful of real toffee. 'By the way, we're now even for that little stunt you pulled posing as me. I don't care if you were possessed or not, the fact such an idea even entered your head is reprehensible.'

George responded by grabbing a handy sneaker and lobbing it at Fred, who choked, dodged, and threw a lounge pillow in return. It was another half-hour, many hurled objects and several decent bruises before either of them got to sleep, but they didn't mind.

***

The end! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review, your thoughts are appreciated. =)


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